


A Custom I Could Get Used To

by EiraLloyd



Series: RK1K Week [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Flowers, Hospitals, M/M, Mentioned Josh (Detroit: Become Human), Mentioned North (Detroit: Become Human), RK1K Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 04:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EiraLloyd/pseuds/EiraLloyd
Summary: “I have been told it is customary to bring patients flowers when they are admitted to a hospital,” the RK800 explains when the silence drags on. “I hope it is not too much.”





	A Custom I Could Get Used To

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for RK1K Week, day 6. It was written for the prompt "Flower".
> 
> I really wanted to write something and wasn't sure exactly what to write. So after a day-long debate and a couple of hours in front of my laptop, this happened. Please keep in mind I know nothing about flower meanings and I got that off a random page I found on Google, so I'm sorry if it's incorrect. Hope you enjoy!

The room is finally quiet. North is gone and has taken her loud swearing with her, and Josh and his questions have left as well. Markus’s systems are stable and his thirium levels have been replenished. He should be back in optimal conditions in no time — or so claimed the engineers that had overseen his repairs a few hours ago. He wouldn’t say he’s in perfect conditions, but his systems are working adequately and, well, as an android living on stolen spare parts, he’s used to running on worse conditions than most.

            Not that that stops his friends from worrying.

            He has a few more hours to himself before the engineers come to check on him again, but he has nothing to do until then. He wishes he could be back at Carl’s house — at least there, he would have something to do, even if the man wouldn’t allow him to overexert himself.

            Classical case of the pot calling the kettle black.

            But as the deviant leader — the android that led a successful peaceful demonstration and is now heading the negotiations with human government agents for android rights —, he not only has access to high security and priority treatments, he is _forced_ to accept them, lest it be interpreted as a slight against anyone who could possibly be in favour of their cause.

            And that is something androids can’t afford. Not now, not when support for their cause is still so fragile.

            An unexpected knock on the door startles him, but he knows how thorough security is in this building and knows only someone trustworthy would be allowed to enter the building — and, especially, reach his room. “Come in.”

            Connor walks in, holding something in his hand. Markus blinks, and scans the object again, just to make sure his damaged systems haven’t made a mistake.

            They haven’t. Those _are_ indeed flowers. Huh.

            “I have been told it is customary to bring patients flowers when they are admitted to a hospital,” the RK800 explains when the silence drags on. “I hope it is not too much.”

            Markus struggles to recover. “No, it—Thank you, Connor. I love them.” It’s not a lie, he does. He _really_ does. But he’s still startled from the fact that the other android not only came to visit him, but also brought him _flowers_.

            That doesn’t mean anything, right? No, of course it doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything.

            (Please, let it mean something.)

            “How are you?” he asks, trying to fill in the silence before it settles once more.

            Connor gives him a look he’s not sure how to interpret. “I should be asking _you_ that. You’re the one that got shot.” Markus returns that with a sheepish smile. “I… I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have anticipated…”

            “It wasn’t your fault, Connor. You can’t be there all the time, and that’s okay. Look at me — I’m fine.” The RK800 glares at him in a way that clearly disputes the use of the word “fine”, but Markus isn’t going to let him blame himself for something that’s very clearly not his fault. “The engineers said my systems should be back to optimal conditions in a few hours. I _am_ fine. Truly.”

            For a moment, Connor says nothing. Then, “Let me be part of your security detail next time.” When the RK200 takes too long to reply, he adds, “It’s the least I can do.”

            “You’ve done a lot already,” he points out, the image of Connor marching towards Hart Plaza with an army of androids behind him coming to mind. “But if it makes you feel better, then okay.” Because having the best prototype to date in charge of his security is a very valuable asset, and North would jump at the opportunity to accept if she were here.

            Besides, this is an opportunity to spend more time with the RK800, and he would be out of his mind if he were to say no to that — his systems aren’t malfunctioning that bad yet.

            “I should probably let you rest.” Markus doesn’t really want him to leave — not so soon —, but he does need to let his systems fully recover from the damage.

            “Right.”

            “Take care, Markus. I’ll see you soon.”

            He really hopes that’s the case. 

* * *

 

Next time, Connor is the one who gets shot. He pre-constructs the best course of action faster than he has ever pre-constructed any other scenario in his life, and ends up interposing himself between the bullet and Markus. He gets sent into a state that resembles human unconsciousness as his circuits struggle to keep his main biocomponents functioning just enough to prevent a permanent shutdown.

            Eventually, his systems go back online and the first thing he does is scan his surroundings — the same place Markus was sent to when he got shot the previous time someone attempted to kill him.

            The second thing he does is get scolded by Hank on his recklessness and alleged suicidal tendencies.

            Pot, meet kettle.

            Huh. Markus must be rubbing off on him.

            He does appreciate Hank’s concern, even if he does not particularly like being scolded on his recklessness by the man who spends his nights either drinking himself into oblivion or playing Russian Roulette — or both.

            “Oh, by the way, Robo-Jesus was here earlier. Well, was here all the time. He was only dragged away half an hour ago for some important meeting or whatever. Left you flowers, though.”

            Connor blinks in confusion before looking at his bedside table. Sure enough, there’s a bouquet of flowers right there, waiting for his attention. He runs a quick scan: _Eustoma_ , most commonly known as Lisianthus. They symbolise gratitude, charm, and an everlasting bond.

            If his particular model could blush, he would, but as it is, he’s grateful that was not a feature included in his external composition (because why would someone want a police android to seem so unthreatening anyway?).

            “I’ll let you get some rest now, kid. But never pull this shit again, you hear?”

            He doesn’t promise anything. He’s not sure he will be able to keep that promise, especially if it means keeping Markus safe. But he’ll try his hardest — after all, he doesn’t want to die.

            There is a _Get well soon!_ card right next to the bouquet and Connor curiously picks it up to read the message inside. There is no signature, but the RK800 immediately knows who wrote it when he reads the words scribbled onto the cardboard.

            _I have been told it is customary to bring patients flowers when they are admitted to a hospital._

_Take care, Connor. I’ll see you soon._

            He can’t help it — he smiles.


End file.
